


Her

by a_nonny_moose



Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: My interpretation of Dark's aura.





	1. Hellhound

Dark is washing dishes the first time it happens. His aura is swirling around his ankles, pestering, snapping, but not as bad as it used to be. It’s almost under control these days, it’s not as malicious or angry. Dark can half-playfully kick it away, humming to himself. 

It’s quiet in the apartment for once, both Doc and Wilford out doing something or the other. Dark is alone, and the only sound is the sloshing of water and the gentle pop of bubbles, the ringing of his aura and the tune in his throat. 

Dark’s aura chomps on his leg with something more solid than smoke, and Dark looks down in shock to see a tiny dog with her fangs in his calf, looking up at him. 

He slowly puts down the plate he’s washing, eyes wide, and the dog snorts around her mouthful of his ankle. She backs away, hackles raised, eyes glowing a dangerous red. 

Even at the height of his knee, the dog is pure muscle and tension, all teeth and ferocity. Her fangs are white against the shaggy, shining black of her fur. Dark takes a second to really look at the dog on his kitchen floor, and he sees that her coat is deeper black than he could imagine, glowing with what seems like stars. 

She shakes, eyes wide, fangs bared at him. A growl, but her tail wags.  


Oh no. Oh no, she’s really cute. 

Dark squats down, drying his hands on a towel, getting eye-to-eye with the pup. 

“Hello,” he says, slowly, watching her pin her ears back, watching the tell-tale smoke of his aura float around her. “Who might you be?”  


The dog barks, a tiny yip, and Dark frowns at her. He knows, of course, seeing her tail dissipate into smoke, then reform with the rapidity of her excitement. 

This– she– _is_  his aura. 

Dark extends a hand towards her, watching carefully. The dog steps forward to sniff it, then promptly sinks her teeth into his finger. 

It’s a tiny shock, the blood bubbling out of his hand, and Dark takes a moment to examine the wound. A smile flits across his face. 

“Impressive,” he murmurs, standing up. 

The pup snarls again, a playful wiggle, and the aura swarms with her. She’s bored, watching him wash dishes, but Dark doesn’t know what she wants. With the click of nails on tile, and a backwards, tongue-hanging-out glance, she trots out of the kitchen.  


For a second, Dark is alone, the usual pressure gone from his shoulders. The kitchen is suddenly too bright, and he’s light-headed. Too much open space. Too little control. He drops the dish towel and hurries into the hallway after her, scowling. 

A cloud of smoke with bloodshot eyes hovers at the end of the hallway, blocking the way, and Dark stops in his tracks. 

A snort, and a massive hound emerges from the cloud, panting. She crosses the distance between them in one step, giant paws muffled against the carpet, broad head brushing the ceiling. Dark holds his breath as his aura swirls around him, blacking out everything but the dull glow of her eyes in front of his.

Dark can feel the brush of the dog’s breath against his face, and stops himself from closing his eyes. 

A light sneeze, wet against his cheeks, and Dark sees the dog’s fangs glow inches from his nose.

A pause, and something like a huge wet cloth is being dragged across his face. 

Dark wipes the giant dog’s spit from his eyes and glares up at her, mocking. She’s gigantic, face placid above him. Oddly enough, she has a sense of majesty, and Dark, for a moment, lets himself be as comforted as he can be with emptiness along his spine. 

The dog glowers at him a minute more, and the floor shakes. Dark realizes what’s happening a second before it happens: her head descends from the ceiling to rest on his chest, and Dark falls to the floor as the giant hellhound tries to lie in his lap.

“Get off,” Dark grumbles, trying and failing to push he off as she gets comfortable, pushing him into the floor. He pauses for a second, watching his aura swirl rapidly around the two of them. The weight of her head on his lap is grounding, the pressure pinning him to the ground like a long-awaited hug.  


He pauses a second longer, then carefully pats her head. The dog shifts to look at him, blinking up with doleful, glowing eyes. Dark swears that she winks at him, smacking her lips, before fading into smoke once more. 


	2. Human

Dark is bent over his desk, cross-referencing some arduous paperwork when it happens, again. He can feel her manifesting over his shoulder, the touch of smoke replaced by cool fingers. 

“I’m busy,” he says, not even turning around.   


Behind him, she clucks her tongue. “Now, that’s no way to greet an old friend.”

Dark shivers at the crawl of her fingers along his jaw and pushes himself up, stalking away, pacing his office. His aura– the woman that calls herself his aura– leans against his desk and frowns. 

“Something wrong, love?”  


“Don’t call me that,” Dark snarls, running a hand through his hair. In truth, everything is wrong. It’s been a rough week, and he’s running himself ragged.   


The woman walks closer, a knowing smile on her face, and pries Dark’s hands away from his face. She holds his large hands in her two small ones, their light pressure not unlike wisps of smoke. 

“Take a break,” she whispers up at him, strands of hair falling into her face. She’s beautiful, all quirking lips and fluttering lashes, but there’s a smooth, cruelly cold power to her. Dark’s power.   


Dark jerks back, sneering. “I can’t.”

She watches him pace, sighing, letting the bottom of her dress dissolve into smoke as she floats to him, laying her hands against his arms. “Let me help,” she whispers, tendrils of smoke curling round him like an octopus, pulling him deeper. 

And Dark fights it, fights her, for only a moment. 

Then, there’s a hand against his bottom, and Dark jumps away as his aura laughs at him, high and cold and cruel. Dark lets himself blush, embarrassed, angry, hating himself for missing the pressure of her hands over his. 

She’s still laughing, ringing against the walls, and she gives him a wink before dissolving into smoke that’s somehow heavier than usual when it curls itself around Dark’s shoulders, weighing him down once again. 


End file.
